he was on
Forrester's side of the desk, pressing up against him. Her hand caressed
the back of his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair. "Kiss me and
let's find out."

CHAPTER THREE

Resistance, such as it was, crumbled in a hurry. Forrester complied with
fervor. An endless time went by, punctuated only by short breaths
between the kisses. Forrester's hands began to rove.

So did Maya's.

She began to unbutton his shirt.

Not to be outdone, his own fingers got busy with buttons, zippers, hooks
and the other temporary fastenings with which female clothing is
encumbered. He was swimming in a red sea of passion and the Egyptians
were nowhere in sight. Absently, he got an arm out of his shirt, and at
the same time somehow managed to undo the final button of a series.
Maya's blouse fell free.

Forrester felt like stout Cortez.

He pulled the girl to him, feeling the surprisingly cool touch of her
flesh against his. Under the blouse and skirt, he was discovering, she
wore very little, and that was just as well; nagging thoughts about the
doubtful privacy of his office were beginning to assail him.

Nevertheless, he persevered. Maya was as eager as he had ever dreamed of
being, and their embrace reached a height of passion and began to climb
and climb to hitherto unknown peaks of sensation.

Forrester was busy for some time discovering things he had never known,
and a lot of things he had known before, but never so well. Every motion
was met with a reaction that was more than equal and opposite, every
sensation unlocked the doors to whole galleries of new sensations.
Higher and higher went his emotional thermometer, higher and higher and
higher and higher and ...

Very suddenly, he discovered how to breathe again, and it was over.

"My goodness," Maya said after a brief resting spell. "I suppose I
_must_ love you for sure. My _good_ness!"

"Sure," Forrester said. "And now--if you'll pardon the indelicacy and
hand me my pants--" he found he was still puffing a little and paused
until he could go on--"I've got an appointment I simply can't afford to
miss."

"Oh, all right," Maya said. "But Mr. Forrester--"

He rolled over and looked at her while he began dressing. "I suppose it
would be all right if you called me Bill," he said carefully.

"In class, too?"

Forrester shook his head. "No," he said. "Not in class."

"But what I wanted to ask--"

"Yes?" Forrester said.

"Mr.--Bill--do you think